What Happens in Mexico
by Hominid16
Summary: Just an explanation of what might have happened at the Mexican border that our protagonists refuse to talk about.


Gus was listing in his head all of the slow ways he could kill Shawn in order to make it perfectly clear to his best friend how he felt about his latest harebrained scheme that got them into this mess, ruining his college senior year Spring Break. He was partial to medieval torture such as the rack or an iron maiden, maybe even drawn and quartering, although that would require a horse. Impalement would do the trick and although noisy and messy, it worked so well, at least as far as the enemies of the Vlad the Impaler AKA Dracula claimed.

A vision of Shawn Spencer stuck with a pointy-ended pike sticking through him, holding his bleeding body erect while his long-abused and under appreciated friend sat at a table enjoying a pineapple smoothie and a plate of jerk chicken, made him chuckle and almost, not totally, forget the predicament they found themselves in.

"What could possibly be amusing at this moment?" Shawn asked as he put one foot in front of the other in the almost pitch black desert night. He stumbled forward after stepping into an unseen dip in the rocky and dusty terrain.

"I was picturing…never mind Shawn. Where the hell are we? Are you sure we're heading north and not in circles? You know we're both right handed, which means that we're both right dominant-footed that can lead to walking in a large circle while thinking that we're walking in a straight line." Gus coughed out some dust kicked up by the dry breeze.

"Why do you tell me a fact that will have no effect on what I can do about the situation? I don't have a compass and if you haven't noticed, there are no roads around here. When the sun comes up I'll be able to tell which way we're going." Shawn was getting very irritated at the annoying, walking encyclopedia of stupid and useless facts that was Burton Guster. Being dehydrated, lost, without any water, transportation, money or ID, and being on an unknown side of the Mexican-US border had nothing to do with his mood, he told himself.

"You should have known Shawn…" Gus muttered to himself, just loud enough to be heard.

Shawn stopped and turned around to see his friend. "Yes Gus, for the fiftieth time, I should have known that those women were not interested in having sex with us because we are such good looking American male specimens, but instead, planned on drugging our alcohol, then getting their compadres to rob us and dump our unconscious bodies in the desert to die! I should have known they had no intention of putting out! I should have listened to you, oh great seer and knower of all things!"

He sounded harsh even to himself but he was hungover from God-knows-what questionable pharmaceutical cocktail that the pretty and eager señoritas slipped into their drinks. He had at some point put up at least minimal resistance, because his jaw hurt, his left eye was swollen and sore, and he felt like he might have some bruised ribs on his right side, not to mention a concussion.

Gus walked past him without stopping, mumbling, "Stupid idiot…look at those girls at that table Gus…they're hot for our bodies Gus…let's buy them drinks Gus…"

Shawn was too tired thirsty, nauseated and sore to deal with Mr. McGuster ComplainyPants. If he'd left their entertainment up to Gus, they'd still be virgins. He shut up and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, trying not to imagine that they were going in circles. Sunup might bring direction, but it would also bring blinding heat and more dehydration. If they didn't find a road soon, they would die out here in the empty desert, their bodies dismembered by coyotes and buzzards. His head was pounding and communicating with his stomach. The mutual decision that the two parts of his body were approaching was not going to help him either.

Shawn heard a rustling off to his right but in the moonless night he couldn't see what animal was making the noise. He hoped it wasn't some deadly snake or chupacabra. He didn't want his blood sucked from his body by a monster cooked up in someone's evil government lab. Suddenly a consensus was reached and his head directed his stomach to expel any liquid left in it, which wasn't much. After a cranial-splitting, rib-cracking series of dry heaving, Shawn fell to his knees and groaned. He spat out the acidic last remnants of his drug-laced cocktail and leaned his head down while he sucked air back into his painful lungs. Gus rushed over to his side, trying to suppress his own sympathetic gag reflex.

"You OK Shawn?" Gus kneeled next to his friend, careful to avoid the gastric liquid rapidly absorbing into the dirt.

"Oh yeah never better…my head is killing me…" he managed to whisper.

"Just rest for a while. We've been walking for hours. I think they gave you more drugs than they gave me or they just don't agree with your body." Gus was getting scared. They had no water or way out other than on foot and he couldn't carry Shawn. He saw Shawn holding his side with his arm. He could have internal injuries. He had a fuzzy memory of Shawn putting up a weak fight against a very large and muscled Mexican dude and not coming out on the winning end. His "drug reaction" could be a concussion or worse.

After about ten minutes of resting they both lifted their heads to the sound of motor vehicles approaching. "There must be a road up there Gus," Shawn said as he groaned and climbed back on his feet. Gus jumped up and put a hand on his arm to help steady him. Soon they saw lights and they began walking toward them.

The two young men could see a small cargo truck stop and U.S. Border Patrol jeeps and a van surround it. They ducked down behind a rise as they got close enough to see the vehicles and the people clearly. "Looks like someone is getting caught bringing Mexicans across the border," Gus whispered. "After they get them secured, let's flag down the officers."

"Shush Gus," Shawn barely whispered. "Something's weird.."

They watched the truck being opened and a mixed group of men and women climbed out, including a very large man. Then two men in black suits walked up to them. There was much discussion that they couldn't make out and then the large Mexican opened his jacket to reveal…"Shit!" Gus said as Shawn clamped his hand over his friends mouth. They stared wide eyed as the thing abandoned the fake human head on a stick and ran screaming. The creature then turned and tried to attack the two guys in the suits who blasted it into blobs of blue glop. The Border Patrol officers, dripping blue ooze were as stunned as were the Mexicans and the truck driver. The two guys in the black suits had a conversation and then gathered everyone together and made them look into a large pen-like object.

Shawn put his hands over Gus's eyes and closed his. When they opened them again, the group of people were standing stunned. Soon trucks and men in white hazmat suits arrived and began torching the cacti and grasses around where the blue thing blew up. The guys in the suits spoke with the people and everyone wandered off and left. They noticed that the Border Patrol let the Mexicans drive away as they vacated the area themselves. Before they knew it, everyone was gone.

Gus and Shawn looked at each other and sat, backs against the hill, trying to process what they'd just seen.

"That was an alien Shawn, and I don't mean an undocumented immigrant from Mexico."

"It was all blue and gloppy inside too…blue…and gloppy…" Shawn said calmly as he looked out into the night. "Who do you suppose those guys in the suits were Gus?"

"Oh they were the Men in Black Shawn. They were actual MIBs. They're not supposed to really exist. How did you know that thing he held up would stun them all if they looked at it?" He looked over at Shawn.

"It just seemed like a logical answer to all of those witnesses. I think it erased their memories. They were all zombied-out by it. Then the cleanup crew arrived and burned the evidence." Shawn thought if they'd been detected then they would be riding back with the border patrol not remembering how they got there.

They sat and thought for another five minutes.

"So you think that Roswell and Area 51…?" Shawn said quietly.

"All real," replied Gus. "And if MIBs are real and they don't allow anyone to know or remember…"

Gus looked at his best friend and adopted brother. "Shawn, we can _never_ tell anyone about what we saw. What happened at the Mexican border, stays at the Mexican border." He held out his fist.

Shawn looked around at the scorched vegetation behind them and at the silent desert. He finished the fist bump and nodded.

"So we kind of blew our ride out of here," Shawn replied.

"Yeah well at least there's a road to follow. Maybe there's a patrol station close by. Ready to go?" Gus slowly dragged himself to an upright position. He extended his hand to Shawn. The young man grabbed his hand and grimacing, managed to stand up. A wave of dizziness hit him and threatened to return him to the ground again, but Gus steadied his friend and Shawn managed to remain upright.

"Thanks…" Shawn kept his arm on Gus's until they were up to the road. "Which way?"

"The jeeps all went this way. Might as well try that,." Gus strained to hear an engine but there was only the sound of the hot breeze. They began walking down the road in the slightly lighter early predawn glow coming from the eastern horizon. They walked until the sun was fully up over their heads, both men now seriously dehydrated and exhausted. Shawn collapsed on the road and lay on his stomach for five minutes before Gus realized he wasn't with him. Alarmed he turned around and hurried as fast as he could to his unconscious friend.

"Shawn wake up!" He tried to yell but only a weak cracked version of his normal voice came out. He reached out and jostled Shawn's shoulder without rousing him. Gus tried not to panic. He was sick and disoriented himself, his head aching, throat and mouth parched, dizzy and so tired and hot. He just wanted to drink about a gallon of ice water and sleep for a week after a cold shower. He was in no shape to carry Shawn.

He reached for Shawn's neck and after a frightening thirty seconds, found a rapid but weak pulse. Shawn was still breathing but shallow and quick breaths. Gus sat back and tried to rest a while, realizing that they had come to the end of their endurance. It was mostly dehydration and sunstroke from the dry heat of the day. They needed help so he closed his eyes and prayed that someone would find them before it was too late. He lay down on the road and fell asleep.

"Sir wake up!" Gus moaned and brushed away the hands on his face that were opening his eyes and shining in a light that was too bright. There were others too making noise and he tried to turn away and sleep but they were moving him and putting things on him. He tried to bat them away and was held down. Finally they were annoying him enough to bring him out of his deep sleep.

"What? Go 'way!" Someone put something on his neck and another held his arm down and he felt a needle prick. A cold pack was put on his forehead, but it made him shiver. He was cold…get that away! Then someone poured water on him. That was uncalled for, he thought. He was moving and then he fell back unconscious again. Neither Shawn nor Gus heard or felt the movement and sound of the helicopter as they were lifted into the air and taken to the hospital.  
_

Henry, Bill, and Winnie Guster sat in the waiting room of the ICU at UC San Diego Medical Center. They'd driven down together when they found out that their sons had been found almost dead of exposure in the desert just a few miles north of the Mexican Border. They were admitted as John Does until the U.S. Border Patrol used fingerprints to identify Shawn from his arrest at age 18. It was not hard to figure out who the young African American man found with Shawn Spencer was when Henry was notified.

The trauma surgeon and the neurosurgeon told Henry and the Gusters that in addition to extreme dehydration and sunstroke, Shawn had a brain contusion, three fractured ribs, a contused lung and hairline fracture of the orbit of his eye. There was nothing to do but slowly rehydrate him and watch for complications like brain edema and pulmonary edema or pneumonia. There was also the possibility of kidney failure. He was on a ventilator and sedated. Gus on the other hand was suffering from the same extreme dehydration and sunstroke, needing careful rehydration to prevent brain damage, and was in danger of kidney failure. He was in better shape than Shawn, but was still critical.

Since they had no IDs on them and were American citizens, the Border Patrol was only interested in making sure they weren't trafficking in drugs or humans. Henry as an SBPD detective was able to reassure them that their sons were more naive idiots looking for a good time in Tijuana than any hardened criminals. The Patrol officer told Henry that they were lucky to have been found. Many male tourist had recently come up missing after crossing the border to have fun in the wild Mexican town. They would like to talk to the two victims when they recovered. Henry promised that he would make that happen.

After a week, Gus was nearly ready for discharge and Shawn was off of the ventilator and improving. He still had need of an oxygen mask and he was on dialysis for four days before his kidneys bounced back. It was a scary few days. After both gave descriptions of the women and the large Mexican male, Shawn and Gus were able to pick their pictures out of photo lineups and arrests were made by the Tijuana police. After the mummified and predated bodies of the missing men were located near where Shawn and Gus were found, the three pled to murder and attempted murder to the relief of the Spencers and Gusters. No one would be forced to return to testify against people whom Henry feared could have even more dangerous friends.

A few days later Gus was all dressed and ready to go home with his parents but wanted to check in to see Shawn before he left. A nurse rolled him in a wheelchair to Shawn's room. Henry and Maddie left to give them some privacy.

"Hey man…how you feeling?" Gus gave Shawn a fist bump. Although he knew that he was thinner and looked pale and tired himself, he was worried at how bad his friend looked. Shawn's eye was three shades of green, purple and red and still swollen. It looked painful. He kept his arm around his ribs and huffed and puffed as he moved around in the bed. Gus was glad to see he only had an oxygen nasal cannula and not the mask. The dialysis catheter was gone and he only had one IV line.

"Never better buddy." Shawn used the bed control to raise the head of the bed. He winced as he shifted in the bed. "Gus, that thing we're never going to mention…that really did happen, or was my concussion worse than they thought?"

"It really happened Shawn. I wasn't out of it when we saw that. It was real." They both sat quietly for a while. "Of course no one would ever believe us, given the shape we were in when they found us."

Shawn nodded. "And they burned all evidence of the exploding blue gloppy alien."

They both looked at each other and burst out laughing. "Stop! Don't make me laugh!" Shawn pleaded as he grabbed a pillow and held it to his ribs. Tears streamed from his eyes as he laughed involuntarily, which ended in a coughing fit that brought up some disgusting dark goo. He spit it in a tissue and tossed it into the trash can. "Gross," he wheezed. "I think I have half of that desert in my lungs."

Gus calmed his own stomach. "Look, I'm out of here. See you when you get back, OK? How about the next time you show up for a week of fun we try something dull like Reno or Vegas?"

"Yeah man, Just remember…"

They both said in unison, "What happens at the Mexican border, stays at the Mexican border!"

"You got that right!" Gus gave a final fist bump as his parents came in and, after saying their goodbyes, wheeled Gus out of his room and to the car.


End file.
